Partners
by StarBurnedOut
Summary: When you fight beside each other as much Scott and Malia do, it's not hard to see how easily feelings might develop. But what does it take to actually admit those feelings? And where do you go from there?
1. 01

**01**

Leaning back against the corrugated steel of the wall behind him, Scott doubled over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. His body ached, blood dripping down his left arm from a ragged slash just under his elbow. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his right knee softly, wincing at the sharp pain that shot down his leg from the simple movement.

Next to him, Malia wasn't in any better shape. She was bleeding heavily from a gash running down her left cheek, one shoulder of her shirt completely shredded along with the skin below. She was looking around the corner of the wall, right hand reflexively clenching as she tried to spot their opponent.

"Anything?" he gasped out, trying to keep his voice low but unsure if he was successful. All he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, the rest of the world muffled, faded.

"Not yet." She turned back around, eyes glowing a vivid blue in the dimly-lit alley. "Are you okay?"

"I think so." He straightened up and slowly leaned on his injured knee. The pain was bad, sharp enough to make him grimace, but the limb remained strong and steady beneath him. Looking up, he locked eyes with her and nodded curtly. "I'm good."

She let out a relieved sigh, then sank back against the wall next to him, exhausted. "Thank God. He's so strong!"

 _He_ was a werewolf who went by the name Arthur Coyle, a man without a pack, an Omega. He'd come to Beacon Hills a week before with a purpose and a long list of victims in his wake. He was a thief, a bank robber, using his supernatural strength to mow down anybody who tried to stop him. After he hit the first bank, the circumstances had tied the crime to several other robberies in California over the past two years. Tape from the bank had made it obvious they were dealing with a werewolf. So the pack had staked out the other two banks in Beacon Hills and waited to take him down.

Only it hadn't gone well. He'd shown up at the bank watched by Lydia, Malia, and Parrish. They'd fought and he'd come out on top, somehow stronger than the three of them. He'd walked away with the money, and the pack had come together to question how a single Omega could possibly be so strong.

Deaton had been the one to figure it out. It was some kind of plant, some rare herb that worked like werewolf steroids. It boosted all their strengths off the charts, turning them into living tanks. The good news was the effects could be neutralised and he knew how. The bad news was it took time, and Coyle had a very clear pattern. He hit a different bank every second night, then immediately skipped town. So they knew where he would be and when, but the timeline of producing the suppressant and actually using it on him was razor thin.

When the time came and things weren't ready yet, Scott had done the only thing he could. He'd gone to the bank to face Coyle head-on, to delay him long enough for Deaton to finish up the suppressant and get it to him. Malia had gone with him, insisting there was no way she was letting him take the guy on alone after experiencing first-hand just how strong he was. They'd confronted him right outside the bank and it quickly became obvious just how badly they were overmatched. He was just too strong, too quick, too much. So they'd done the only thing that made sense. They'd ran, praying the juiced up wolf would give chase. And he had.

Sudden heavy footsteps echoed through the still night air, bouncing off the walls and buildings around them. They'd stuck to alleys and darkness, trying to lead the monster away from the downtown, more heavily-populated areas. It made it a little easier to hide, but also a little harder to precisely pinpoint where he was.

Low-pitched growls slowly grew louder as Scott held his breath and listened, trying to figure out exactly how close the Omega was. He could hear the wolf's heartbeat now, beating way too fast, which meant he was close. Very close.

Next to him, Malia trembled slightly as her claws flicked out and she pushed away from the wall to face the alley, her own ears telling her the same thing Scott's had already told him. Taking a deep breath, he followed her lead, shifting into his wolf as stepped up behind her. Reaching out, he laid three fingers on her bare arm. She stiffened, then nodded almost imperceptibly when she realised what he was doing. Slowly, he retracted a finger and tapped two as the growls grew even louder, the heartbeat like gunfire in his ears as Coyle stalked towards them.

The instant he tapped one, Malia let out a growl of her own and darted around the corner, him on her heels. Coyle was right there, hulking form standing mere feet away, eyes wide and glowing blue, fangs bared. She hit him low, diving for his knees as Scott went high, leaping over her, claws drawn back and ready to strike. The Omega let out a roar of pain as she hit his knee hard, but kept his hands up and caught Scott with a hard shove to the chest as he came in close. He got a little cut on his right arm for his efforts, but successfully sent the incoming Alpha careening back through the air and crashing down hard on the concrete.

Springing to her feet, Malia came forward, claws flashing as she tried to drive the wolf away from Scott, who was slow to rise behind her. He shook his head to clear it as he watched her dance around Coyle, avoiding his claws while trying to stay between them.

Just as he reached his feet, he watched her stumble slightly and saw what was coming before it happened. Seizing on the tiny advantage, Coyle slipped a hand past Malia's guard and clamped down hard on her wrist. Wrenching her already injured shoulder hard, he jerked her forward, and she screamed in pain. Even as his free hand closed around her other wrist, Scott was racing forward, divining the next move. With a roar, the Omega turned, yanking her off her feet as he swung her hard toward the far end of the alley.

Darting around Coyle's right side, Scott reached out with both arms just as he released Malia. Timing it perfectly, he caught her by the waist with both hands as she rocketed forward, clamping down as hard as he could. In one motion, he spun around in a complete circle to eat up some of the momentum, never breaking stride as he set her down.

"Run!" he shouted, clasping her hand in his and sprinting forward. His knee was screaming, but he couldn't stop. Not now, not yet.

Turning the corner, the pair didn't pause, racing ahead like their lives depended on it, feet pounding the pavement hard. They kept moving forward, twisting and turning through the maze-like alleyways, the risk too great to turn and see if Coyle was right behind them or not.

"Fire escape!" Malia shouted suddenly, barely audible over his own pulse hammering in his ears.

Narrowing his eyes, Scott spotted the set-up she was talking about, protruding from the side of the building directly ahead of them. With a growl, he released the grip he had on her hand and sped up, whole body tensing for the jump. Supernatural strength drove him straight up in the air, claws scrabbling for a grip before they wrapped around the cold steel railing. The whole structure creaked ominously as Malia landed next to him, both of them ignoring it as they struggled over the railing and down onto the platform.

"Scott," she managed to get out between gasps, as they both sat there, panting and trying to ignore their pain, "I don't know if we can take him."

"We don't need to," he muttered back, head between his knees as he tried to control his own breathing. "We just need to keep him distracted until Deaton and Lydia get here."

Grimacing, she rubbed at her shoulder and shook her head. "Will they even find us? It feels like we've run across the half the city." A hiss of pain escaped her lips as she prodded at her torn flesh, trailing off into a low growl.

Scott didn't want to agree with her, no matter how much he actually did. And he did. _If_ his friends had completed the suppressant, and _if_ they were currently on their way to use it, they'd still have to track them down a million alleys and side streets, so far from the bank. But he couldn't say that. He was the Alpha. He was the leader. He had to believe they could do it, no matter how much his battered body was protesting, how loudly his common sense was screaming at him to get away. Alphas didn't give up. They didn't give in. They did what they had to do.

Jaw set, Scott straightened up and reached out to take Malia's hand. She turned toward him, blue eyes meeting red and seeing the resolve burning in their depths. He didn't say a word, just staring at her until her own expression hardened and she nodded. Hand in hand, they both rose, staring down at the alley below as they waited for Coyle to reappear.

"You have some kind of plan?" Malia whispered, bumping her good shoulder against his.

"Yeah. We fight."

She snorted at that. "Good plan. What if we lose?"

"We won't."

Before she could respond again, a familiar growl rang out and they both stiffened. Eyes focused on the far end of the alley, dimly illuminated by the tiny amount of light filtering through from the nearest streetlamp. As they watched, the massive shifter's shadow appeared on the wall, slowly stalking forward.

"Ready?" Scott asked, turning toward her and arching an eyebrow.

"No." But she squeezed his hand all the same and tensed, ready to leap back down to the ground below.

"Let's do this."

 **o0o0o0o**

"This way!"

Liam's voice, filled with urgency, echoed back to Lydia, Sheriff Stilinski, and Deputy Parrish as they followed the Beta wolf down yet another alley. The group had been forced to leave their cars back at the bank when it became clear Scott and Malia had led Coyle out of the area.

Clutching at her side, Lydia tried to keep up with the others, other hand clasped tightly around the syringe filled with the precious suppressant. If she wasn't so out of breath, she'd have been cursing the whole world for making her run after a bunch of werewolves, but she just didn't have the energy. Parrish raced ahead, the only one of them capable of keeping up with Liam, as the Sheriff kept pace at her side, his own breaths coming in sharp gasps, face flushed and sweaty.

Bursting through the end of the alley, she suddenly stopped short when she nearly ran into Parrish's back. The Hellhound was standing straight, watching as Liam wandered around the small, open area, inhaling deeply through his nose.

"They fought here," he said confidently as she doubled over and tried desperately to catch her breath. "I can smell all three of them, and some blood. I think they're close."

"God, I hope so," Stilinski muttered, slumped back against a wall, hands on his knees.

As Liam began to move toward the far end of the alley, a loud and unmistakable roar rang out, splitting the night air. All four immediately straightened up, recognising the roar of an Alpha. Their Alpha.

"They're close!" Liam shouted as the last of the echoes faded away.

Before anybody could stop him, he turned and dashed off, disappearing down the nearest alley. Parrish let out a growl and raced after him, leaving Lydia and the Sheriff to try and follow. Grimacing in annoyance, she took a deep breath and jogged after them, Stilinski grumbling under his breath as he fell into step beside her. They followed the sound of the footsteps, somehow managing to stay close enough to Parrish to not lose him in the dark as they traced his path down the empty alleys.

Lydia lost all track of time as she ran, all her energy focused on just keeping her up and moving. Her vision narrowed down to a single point in front of her face, the only sound her own harsh breathing in her ears as her legs pumped like pistons below her. The only thought in her head was the need to get the suppressant to Scott before Coyle could do serious damage to one of her friends.

Again, she was forced to stop abruptly when Parrish's back appeared in her tunnel vision. The fact that he was standing there and not immediately leaping into action scared her more than she cared to admit. Bracing herself against his back, she took a few short breaths and slowly leaned around the Hellhound, scared of what she might be about to see. It took a second for the sight that greeted her to process, but when it did, her eyes flew open wide.

Arthur Coyle was lying flat on his face on the ground, his massive form completely still. Both Scott and Malia were sitting on him, the wolf on his lower back and the coyote on the back of his shoulders. Malia had the claws of one hand tangled in his shaggy hair, ready to smash his head off the concrete if he moved, as a small pool of blood slowly expanded beneath his forehead. Both of them were eyeing Liam as he hovered around them, chattering away excitedly.

"Liam!" Scott's loud call immediately froze the Beta. "We're okay," he said, dropping his voice, but not enough to hide the exhaustion that was dripping from every syllable.

Before the younger wolf could start up again, Lydia stepped around Parrish and limped toward them, syringe clenched tight in her hand. She gritted her teeth as her sore legs protested the movement, but pushed that aside for the moment.

"Is he..." She trailed off as she approached, drawing the eyes of both her friends to her.

"Dead?" Malia lifted Coyle's head off the ground by his hair, revealing his battered, bloody face. "No. Just really messed up." She let his head drop, grinning viciously as it bounced off the pavement with a dull, wet thud. Grim amusement danced in her eyes as she looked up and met Lydia's gaze. "Concrete's still harder than flesh and bone, no matter how strong you are."

Scott snorted softly and leaned into her, nudging her with his shoulder. He flinched slightly when they made contact, immediately drawing Lydia's eyes to him. Seeing the concern on her face, he held up a hand and said, "I'm okay, Lydia. Just sore. This guy really packed a punch." Then he held out his hand. "The suppressant?"

"Do we still need it?" she asked dryly, eyes darting to the bloodied head of Coyle.

"Better safe than sorry."

As he spoke, Scott rose to his feet, moving slow and stiff. He grimaced and let out a little gasp of discomfort, but didn't hesitate to extend his hand to help Malia up. She was just as beat up, the pain clearly registering on her face as he pulled her to her feet, but stood tall next to him as Lydia moved forward and knelt next to their fallen foe.

"Deaton is sure this is going to work, right?" Malia asked as she took the cap off the syringe and looked for a vein in Coyle's limp arm. "'Cause I _really_ don't want to have to fight this guy again."

"It'll work," she replied absently, focused on her task. Her hand was shaking a little as she brought the syringe to his arm, every muscle in her body burning unpleasantly from her unexpected and unwanted exercise, but she gritted her teeth and concentrated on keeping steady. Slowly, carefully, she stuck the needle into one of the wolf's veins, and emptied the contents of the syringe into his bloodstream. There was no immediate reaction, but given the state of the unconscious man's head, she hadn't really been expecting one.

As Parrish moved forward and helped Lydia up, she let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and locked eyes with Scott. "There. Consider our friend here officially suppressed."

"Guess he's our problem now," the Sheriff said as he and Parrish stepped forward, both looking down at the fallen Omega. Reaching out, Stilinski put a hand on Scott's shoulder, eyes moving from him to Malia and back. "You did good here, Scott. Are you two gonna be okay?"

It seemed like a fair question to Lydia. Now that her task was done, she was able to give her friends a closer looking over, and she didn't like what she saw. In addition to their obvious exhaustion, both looked like they been on the wrong end of a mugging. Malia was bleeding freely from an ugly gash on her face, various little cuts and scrapes unevenly spread over all of her bare skin. Her shoulder looked bad, just a bloody mess with bits of her shirt stuck in it. Scott wasn't much better, with both arms covered in blood and a sizable slash in the front of his shirt. He was bleeding from a small cut over his right eye, blood slowly dripping down the side of his face.

"We'll heal," he replied, as Malia nodded in agreement.

For a second, the entire group just stood there in the cool night air and let the blessed peace, stillness soak in. It felt a little anti-climactic to Lydia, to run so hard, fight so desperately to get there, only to end up standing around like nothing was wrong. But it was a lot better than the alternative, she reasoned, eyes still looking over her wounded friends with concern.

"What now?" Liam's voice broke the stillness of the scene, drawing all of them back to reality.

"We get this guy restrained and transported to Eichen House," Stilinski replied, gesturing for Parrish to handcuff Coyle. "You kids get yourself home. Or maybe back to Deaton at the animal clinic." He looked at Malia's shoulder and winced. "You might want to get that looked at."

She waved off his concern dismissively. "I'm fine. Can we get some food though? I'm starving."

Lydia couldn't help but smile at her friend's casual attitude. She met Scott's eyes and shook her head in amusement when he winked back. "Come on," she said, stepping between the two and putting an arm behind each of them. "It's a long walk back to my car."

As the Parrish and Liam manhandled the slowly stirring Coyle to his feet, the three teenagers slowly made their way back down the alley. Lydia couldn't have moved quickly if she wanted to, but that worked just fine for the other two, neither of whom were in any hurry to stretch their sore bodies any further. Instead, they drifted along at their own pace, happy just to be done with the fighting for the night.

"Hey, I wasn't kidding about the food, guys."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _This is going to have a second chapter. Originally, it was supposed to be a one-shot, but as I was writing it, I found a natural split and decided to break it up. This is my first bit of fanfiction in a long time, and it feels a little clunky, but hopefully people like it. Let me know._


	2. 02

**02**

The instant Scott stepped inside his house, he was met by his worried mother, who immediately ushered him into the kitchen and down onto a chair. Before he could protest, she was poking experimentally at his wounds and clucking her tongue disapprovingly at what she was seeing. Over her shoulder, he saw Malia leaning against the wall, smirking at his discomfort, and rolled his eyes.

"My God, Scott," Melissa said, forcibly tilting back his head to get a better look at the gash above his eye. "When Lydia texted, I knew it would be bad, but this is..." She trailed off and bent over to examine his slashed chest. "I hope you at least won the fight."

"We did," Malia interjected before he could respond. "You should see the other guy."

Frowning at her, he let out a little warning growl, too low-pitched for his mom to hear, but she just grinned back. Shaking his head, he reached out and patted his mom's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm fine. It's just a couple little scratches. I can already feel them starting to heal."

"Oh, yeah?" Looking into his eyes, she arched an eyebrow in challenge, then pressed a little harder on his chest wound. He couldn't contain his flinch as sharp pain spiked through him, and mentally cursed as grim satisfaction flashed across her face. "You look like you took a bath in blood, Scott." Dropping her head, she sighed wearily before looking back up at his face. "Are you kids capable of doing anything that doesn't end with you all battered, bruised, and bloody?"

Scott just shrugged, having already heard the same question from his mother a hundred times, voiced a hundred different ways. She understood what he did and why he did it, but he knew she was never going to be fully okay with just how beat up he and his friends got sometimes. Most of the time, she could rationalise enough to keep her comments to herself, but when they were staring her right in the face, it was a little difficult to let them go without comment.

"And don't think I've forgotten about you, young lady." Turning, Melissa put her hands on her hips and glared at the girl behind her, who quickly lost her smirk.

"I'm fine too," Malia declared, putting her hands up to ward off the nurse before she could even approach her. "Not hurt, just bloody and hungry. See?"

She held up the bag of burgers she was carrying, a gift from Lydia, who'd admitted to feeling a little guilty about not getting the suppressant to them sooner. Scott wasn't sure exactly what she could have done differently, but when she'd offered to buy their dinner, he wasn't about to argue. Money was always tight, and after such a hard fight, he was nearly starving.

For a moment, Melissa just stared at her, before she finally let out another sigh and relaxed her rigid stance a bit. "All right," she said, stepping to the side and turning so she could look at both of them. "I'd like to stay and help you two get cleaned up, but I've got a shift tonight." Belatedly, he realised she was wearing her scrubs. "Scott, honey, you know where the first aid kit is if you need it. Please, _please_ , try not to get blood all over your carpet again, all right? Malia, the bed's already set up in the spare room if you want to spend the night, okay?"

"I'm gonna take her home after we eat, mom," Scott said, drawing his mother's worried eyes to him.

"Okay." Turning, she stepped over to the counter and grabbed her car keys. Holding them up, she jingled them softly. "Take the car, please. I don't want you riding your bike when you're already all beat up like this, all right?"

He frowned, brow creasing. "Don't you need it?"

"No, Argent's picking me up. He needs to check something out at the hospital, and he offered to take me in with him."

Scott tried to ignore how his mother's cheeks flushed slightly when she mentioned the former hunter. He was fully aware there was something going on between the two, and wasn't opposed to it in the least. The opposite, actually. He liked the idea of his mother being with somebody who knew about his world, and was comfortable in it. And he liked the idea of her having somebody who made her happy. But it was still a little weird for him, given what he'd gone through with the man. He tried not to think too hard on it, because that just led down roads he wasn't really sure he wanted to be on.

"Okay." His acceptance drew a smile from his mother, finally cutting into the worry that had been emanating from her since their arrival.

A horn suddenly sounded from outside, and Melissa started, straightening up and clasping her hands together. "That'll be my ride. I should..." She trailed off and pointed toward the door, but didn't move. Scott just waited patiently, knowing it would take her a moment to actually get moving. He watched as her eyes traced over his more visible wounds one last time, before she shook herself. "Okay, I'm off. Just leave your bloody clothes... well, maybe just throw that shirt right in the garbage, Scott. I'm pretty sure it's beyond saving." He just quirked an eyebrow, drawing a sheepish grin from her. "All right. Going, going." With that, she raised a hand in farewell and made her way out the door.

Silence settled over the house then, as the two teenagers were left alone. Pushing away from the wall, Malia shifted the burgers to her other hand and stepped over to the table. "I'm gonna eat, if you wanna go get cleaned up," she said, already digging into the bag.

"Yeah, I'll just go get some towels or something."

Rising, Scott headed upstairs to the linen closet, where he kept a plentiful supply of ripped clothes and towels to use as rags for clean up after fights. It suddenly struck him as such an odd thing to do as he was standing there, piling up pieces of cloth in his arms, but he could only laugh and shrug. It was a necessity in his life, and had been for awhile now. Not something normal people had to worry about, but he wasn't normal anymore. He'd come to terms with that a long time ago.

By the time he got back down to the kitchen, Malia was already starting on her second burger, tearing into it with gusto. He grinned to himself as he dumped the armful of rags on the counter and turned on the warm water in the sink. He was always famished after a big fight, whether because of the energy expended during, or afterwards when his healing kicked in, he wasn't sure. She was no different, and while she'd learned to be a lot more restrained in most areas than she used to be, eating when she was hungry was not one of them.

"Don't choke," he called back over his shoulder as he started wetting a couple of the rags. She mumbled something back through a mouthful of food that didn't exactly sound polite, and he let out a little snort and shook his head.

Taking one of the rags, Scott began to wipe at the blood drying on his face. He winced when the rough material scraped across the cut on his forehead, but just kept diligently working, eager to feel clean again. He could see his reflection in the window above the sink and used it to clean away the worst of the mess, scrubbing until he no longer looked like a horror movie victim.

"Your turn," he said a moment later, dropping the dirty rag in the sink and picking up a clean one. Her eyes darted to his chest when he turned away from the counter, a questioning look on her face, but he waved her off, a reassuring smile on his face. "That can wait. It really isn't very deep. I can already feeling it healing."

Malia held his gaze for a second, then shrugged, pain briefly flashing across her face at what the movement did to her shoulder. It was only visible for an instant, but he saw it all the same. He'd known she was in pain all night, despite her best attempts to hide it, but it still struck him hard to see her actually show it. It didn't seem right.

Putting that aside for now, Scott returned to the table and circled around behind her. From close up, he looked down at her injured right shoulder and grimaced at the sight. It was just a mash up of dried blood, torn flesh, and little bits of her shredded shirt. For a second, he just stared at the wound, something inside him clenching tight at seeing one of his friends, one of his pack bearing such a mark. He knew, logically, that he couldn't keep them all safe all the time, and Malia in particular was always going to be on the front lines of any fight. But it still rankled deep inside him to know he'd been there, been fighting alongside her, and hadn't been able to prevent it.

"How's it look?" she asked after he was still for just a second too long.

"Not great," he muttered, shaking himself out of his trance and lifting the rag. He hesitated for a second, knowing it was going to hurt, before he began to gently dab at the area. Immediately, she let out a little hiss of pain and tensed, reflexively leaning away from him. "Sorry, sorry," he quickly said, stilling his hand until she relaxed. "You okay?"

"Just do it," she grated out, hands clenching into fists as she leaned back towards him and shifted to give him better access to her shoulder.

Again, he began to gently clean her wound, carefully wiping away the dried blood as he tried not to pull on the torn flesh more than he had to. He could feel her whole body trembling as she fought not to let her pain show, and felt that same clenching sensation strike in his belly. He didn't like this. He didn't like causing her pain, no matter how much it was actually going to help her in the long run. He didn't like smelling her blood, or the pain and distress in her scent. It made him angry in a way he didn't have words for, couldn't really give a voice to, frustrating and enraging at the same time. But that didn't really matter, because he had a job to do.

"I'm gonna have to pick the pieces of your shirt out," he said, cringing slightly at the sudden huskiness in his own voice. Clearing his throat, he slipped the rag into his pocket. "I'll try to be quick."

As he spoke, he reached out instinctively with his right hand and put it over hers, which was still clenched in a tight fist on the table. She went completely still for a second, then slowly turned her hand over and grasped his tightly.

Flicking out the claws on his left hand, Scott took a steadying breath, then slowly began to pick the bits of cloth out of her wound. He worked as quickly as he could, pinching the offending shreds between his claws one-by-one and pulling them away as gently as he could. Malia never uttered a sound, the only proof she was in any kind of pain residing in the fluctuating grip she had on his hand. She held perfectly still, letting him work, and finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled his hand away and let out the breath he'd been holding.

"All done," he said, keeping his voice as light as he could, trying not to show just how affected he was by her pain. "You want me to try to clean it again, or wait a bit?"

"Might as well get it over with," she replied, the slightest hitch in her voice the only evidence of her discomfort.

Reaching back, Scott grabbed the rag from his pocket and brought it back to her shoulder. He briefly considered asking for his hand back, since he was right-handed, but didn't really want let her go. He liked how her hand felt in his, a realisation that he pushed aside for the moment, compartmentalising until later, when he could safely sort through his feelings on his own. So instead, he gritted his teeth and began to clean away the dried blood he'd skipped earlier to avoid pulling on the debris in the wound.

As the blood was gradually cleaned away, a genuine smile made its way onto his face. He could see the gash was actually showing signs of the healing process. Now that it was cleaner, her healing factor was kicking into high gear, working to seal up the ragged wound, the edges of the torn flesh turning pink, new skin growing over.

"I think we're good here," he finally said, leaning back and dropping the blood-stained rag to the floor. It still looked ugly and wrong, but it was clean at least.

"Thanks."

"How's your cheek feel?"

Turning in her chair, she looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Like some asshole slashed it with his claws." Her voice was dry, and he couldn't help but grin.

An answering smile came to her lips as she looked up at him, and in that moment, Scott was absolutely certain he'd never seen something more beautiful in his life. For some reason, as he stood there, something suddenly shifted deep in his mind. He could see the blood on her face, the cut on her cheek, the injuries she'd suffered while backing him up, but suddenly, that clenching in his stomach was gone. Instead, there was something else, something indescribable, as his viewpoint abruptly shifted, illuminated by a sudden epiphany.

Malia was a fighter. She'd survived in the wild as long as she had because she was a fighter. And now she was fighting for his pack, for his town, for _him_. She was sitting in his kitchen, in pain, covered in her own blood and the blood of the monster they'd fought and defeated together, and it didn't matter. She was still Malia. She was still blunt, aggressive, still herself. They could have both died tonight, but they hadn't, and now they were cleaning their wounds as they ate and joked and wasn't that amazing?

Suddenly those wounds weren't reminders of how he'd failed to protect her. They were great flashing neon signs of her loyalty, her strength, what she was willing to endure to keep fighting alongside him. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that if some new horror cropped up tomorrow, she'd be at his side without hesitation.

"What? Is it that bad?"

The undercurrent of worry in her voice and the slipping of her smile as she raised a hand to her bloody cheek snapped Scott back to reality. He'd been staring, caught up in his own thoughts, lost in his new and unexpected revelations. But for some reason beyond his comprehension, there was no embarrassment.

"Scott! Are you okay?" Reaching out, she snapped her fingers a few times before his face. His eyes never wavered, his only movement the grin slowly spreading across his face. "Oh, man. Did you bang your head tonight? Should I call your mom?"

"No, don't do that." His voice sounded odd in his own ears, but he was beyond caring. Slowly, he reached out and cupped the side of her face. His dark eyes locked on hers, neither of them blinking as he stepped forward, knees brushing against hers. "Malia. Thank you."

"For what?"

There was no good response to that. For being there? For fighting with him? For having his back? For being his partner? For being her? It wasn't something he could put into words. At least not yet, not now, when it was so new to him. There were no words. But there was an action.

Leaning down, he kissed her. No hesitation, no second thoughts. Just his hand on her face and his lips on hers.

For a second, an instant, Malia was frozen. She didn't react at all. Then she kissed him back, tilting her head, parting her lips, accepting. When her hands came up, pressing against his lower stomach, he felt a brief flash of pain, thinking she was pushing him away. But she just pushed him back so she could stand up, and then her arms were over his shoulders, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his mouth harder against hers. His own hands dropped down to her waist, pulling her body against his.

Scott wasn't sure how long they stood there, lost in the moment, in each other. All he knew was how good it felt, how right. But it couldn't last forever, and eventually the need for oxygen forced them to break apart.

"Wow," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Yeah." There was a pause then, the only sound in the house their laboured breathing. Scott was content to just stand there and bask in the warmth of the moment. But then Malia pulled back a bit, enough so she could look up into his eyes. "That wasn't just a thank you kiss, was it?"

A breathless laugh bubbled from him at that, and he shook his head slowly. "No. Definitely not."

"Good, because I would have had to beat your ass if it was." Her fingers began to twist and play in his hair as they looked into each other's eyes, and he couldn't help but grin happily as a soft smile appeared on her face. "I don't think I want you to take me home tonight."

"You sure?"

"Oh, yeah. But we should probably take this upstairs. I don't think our first time should be on your mom's kitchen table."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ _That's it for this one. I don't even know if I like it or not. I'm an action guy, so this was a little outside of my usual territory, but I figured I'd give it a shot. Also, my summary is shit, I realise. Should probably fix that. Anyway, let me know what you think._

 _ **Edit:**_ _I decided I liked this story better as a two-shot, so I deleted the two chapters I'd added. I completely lost the story and where I was going with it, and I just couldn't continue it. It was originally supposed to end here, so now it does again. Sorry if you were looking forward to more. I'm done with it._


	3. 03

_**AN:** So, I know I said I was done with this story, but I kind of suck, so there's more. The first half of this chapter is pretty much the same as the previous third chapter I had up, because somebody really liked it and requested to see it again. So I fixed it up a bit, and added a second half that sort of wraps things up on a happy note, rather than the extended story I originally failed at turning this into. This is mostly just a fluff chapter, half of which you might have read before, but I hope that doesn't take anything away from it for you. Hope you all enjoy it._

* * *

 **03**

"Scott. Scott, wake up."

The words gradually filtered down through Scott's sleep-saturated mind, drawing him out of the comfortable darkness of slumber. Warm hands pushed insistently at his shoulder as he let out a little grunt, eyes slowly cracking open to reveal the familiar surroundings of his bedroom. Bright sunlight was shining through the window, lighting up the room, and revealing the smiling face of Malia as she knelt on the bed next to him.

For a second, he just stared at her, at the way the sunlight fell across her face, making it seem like she was glowing. Unable to help himself, he reached up, threading his fingers gently through her hair and pulled her down to him. She came willingly, throwing an arm over his bare chest as she sank into the kiss.

When they parted, Scott smiled as she leaned back, lips slightly parted, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Morning," he said, voice husky from sleep.

"Morning." Her voice was soft, softer than he was accustomed to, but that wasn't really a surprise.

Things were different now. They hadn't spoken much last night after he kissed her, choosing instead to express the change in their relationship physically. The words would have to come eventually, he knew, they'd have to lay out exactly what they were, where they stood. But they didn't need words to know things had irrevocably changed between them. He wasn't used to her looking at him like she was, like he was something special, something she was seeing through new eyes, in a new light. Probably a lot like he was looking at her, he abruptly realised, his smile widening as she began to trace little patterns on his chest with her fingers.

"How're you feeling? Better?" As he spoke, he reached out and ghosted his hand over her shoulder, careful not to make contact until she hooked a finger in the collar of her borrowed shirt and pulled it down enough to show off the smooth, unmarked skin there.

"Good as new. Hey, do you mind if I use your shower?"

He raised an eyebrow at that, faint amusement settling on his face. "That's why you woke me up? To ask to use the shower?"

Malia grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Yeah? It seemed like the thing to do. And..." She dragged out the word playfully as she leaned in, then kissed him again, soft and lingering. "I kind of wanted to hear your voice," she murmured against his lips, before pulling back a little and grimacing. "Is that too sappy? I'm not usually sappy."

"No, no, not too sappy." He rocked his head back and forth, smiling crookedly at her. "The right amount, I think."

She beamed at that, pressing another quick kiss to his lips, then bounced to her feet and headed for the shower. All she was wearing was one of his shirts, and he had to close his eyes and take a few calming breaths to fight the urge to follow her out of the room. Once the door closed and he heard the water kick on, he pulled his blanket back over his head and tried to get back to sleep. The night's activities, both before and after the return to his house, had worn him out. Now, surrounded by her scent, and feeling comfortably warm, he quickly began to doze off, not quite asleep, but not awake either.

Scott wasn't sure how long he'd been dozing when the sound of someone knocking on his bedroom door abruptly jarred him back to consciousness. He sat up just as the door open and his mother stepped into the room. Distantly, he was aware that the water was no longer running in the bathroom, and could only hope Malia realised now wasn't the best time to come out.

"Hey," she said, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. "How're you feeling this morning?"

"Better," he said, carefully keeping his eyes away from the bathroom door. "All healed." He kept his words short, clipped, hoping his mom would take the hint and leave.

She was silent for a moment, eyes looking over his face, where the previous cut was now just a thin white line on his skin, barely visible. "Thank God for that. Did you get Malia home all right last—" She stopped abruptly, eyes suddenly focusing on the floor next to his bed, then widening slightly before darting back to him. "Scott," she said slowly. "Um, whose shorts are—"

Her words cut off then as the bathroom door abruptly swung open. "Hey, Scott, I borrowed your shampoo. Hope that's..." Malia trailed off, stopping dead in the doorway as she belatedly realised they weren't alone. Clearing her throat nervously, she subtly tried to adjust the towel she had wrapped around her as Scott let his head sink back against his pillow and groaned. Pasting a mock-cheerful smile on her face, she waved weakly at his mother. "Uh, hey. Good morning!"

Melissa cocked an eyebrow at her, then turned back to Scott and pursed her lips. "Well, I guess that answers my question. Both of them."

For a second, silence reigned as all three stayed frozen, none of them really sure what to say. On his back, staring up at the ceiling, Scott prayed for his bed to just open up and swallow him. Even though he was eighteen, and actually had been caught once before by his mom when Kira had spent the night, it was still almost painful. He wanted his mom knowing about his sex life about as much as he wanted to know about hers.

Unable to take the tension any longer, he sat up and arched an eyebrow at his mother, nodding toward the door. "You want to, uh..."

"Yeah, yeah." She nodded vigorously, already reaching for the handle. "I'm just gonna... leave you kids to... yeah." Turning on her heel, she beat a hasty retreat from the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Malia walked over the bed and perched on the edge, next to him. "Well, that was awkward," she said dryly, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Just a little." Scott leaned back against the wall and shot her a lopsided grin. "Your timing is awful."

Instead of replying, she leaned over and grabbed her shorts off the floor. Holding them up, she caught his eye and smirked. "I think we were already kinda busted anyway."

He let out a snort of amusement and nodded. "Yeah." Then he pursed his lips and shrugged. "I'm sorta thinking that's not really a bad thing. Her knowing," he clarified, when she arched an eyebrow in question. "I mean, not, y'know, how she found out. That was... just awful." She smirked at that as he pressed on. "But it's better if she knows. I mean, if we're gonna be... doing whatever we're doing, it would have been hard to hide. So it's better this way, I think. Right?"

She was silent for a moment, just studying his face searchingly as he shifted uncomfortably, unused to the close scrutiny. "What are we doing, Scott? What was..." She gestured between them, then to the bed, "this?"

"A start." He didn't even have to think about it. The response was instantaneous, certain. Last night, his epiphany, it had just been the start, the spark that made him realise how much he liked her, how much the thought of being with her appealed to him. He wanted it, wanted her, wanted to see where it went, what they could be. Reaching out, he cupped the side of her face, looked into her eyes. "I really like you, Malia. I think... I think we work well together, in so many ways. And I know it might be a little awkward going from friends to, y'know, more than friends, but I want to try. I think we could be g—"

His words were lost then as she leaned forward and slanted her lips over his, one hand going around his head, pulling him tight to her. He was more than happy to give into her efforts, arms coming around her, hands stroking over the smooth skin of her back as her towel slipped lower. Locked together, they slowly slid down until they were stretched out again, limbs intertwined, both completely lost in their shared passion.

"I _really_ like the sound of that," she whispered breathlessly when they finally broke apart, both flushed, expressions elated. "And you're right. We are good together."

"Yeah, we are." Scott trailed his hand slowly up to her cheek, then brushed the hair away from her forehead before gently palming her cheek again. "You know I trust you with my life. Honestly, it feels like we've been partners for months now, Malia, all the time we've spent together, all the crap we've dealt with. And now..." He smiled softly, seeing the emotion dancing in her eyes, "I think it's time we find out what else we can be."

The twenty minutes that followed were some of the happiest of Scott's life. She was the only thing on his mind, everything else pushed aside, unimportant, just her and him and the heat between as they lied there, intertwined, revelling in their warmth, their new connection, their new status.

Eventually, though, the real world trickled back in, and with one last, soft kiss, Scott reluctantly rolled over and sat up. "I wish we could stay here all day, but we can't. You know everybody's gonna want to hear about Coyle." Almost on cue, Scott heard his phone, sitting on the table next to the bed, start to vibrate. "See?"

"Ugh." Turning over, she buried her face in the pillow for a second, then lifted up slightly and shook her head. "Our friends really suck sometimes."

Scott let out a snort. "Yeah, but you love them anyway. And besides, I kinda _want_ to talk to them now. I wanna see their faces when we tell them about us." Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder as she huffed out an amused breath, then turned and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "All right, I'm gonna grab a shower. You can stay up here if you want. Or you could go have breakfast with my mom," he teased. "I'm sure that'd be a lot of fun."

"I am kind of hungry," she said nonchalantly as she rolled over into the spot he'd just vacated and grinned up at him.

He just shook his head and muttered, "Shameless," as he made his way into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked back out of the steam-filled bathroom, towel around his waist, to find Malia sitting in his chair, fully dressed and munching on a bagel. Pausing, he raised an eyebrow in question, huffing out a little laugh when she just shrugged. Shaking his head in amusement, he grabbed some clean clothes out of his dresser, and quickly pulled them on. She watched him silently the whole time, and he couldn't help but grin every time their eyes met and she arched an eyebrow, like she was daring him to say something.

"You having fun?" he finally asked as he pulled his shirt on.

"I was," she replied, rising to her feet and stalking toward him. Reaching out, she trailed a hand down his shoulder and chest, then hooked a finger in his belt and jerked him toward her. He went willingly, sinking into a brief but passionate kiss before she pulled back and frowned. "You should probably get me home though. I think I'd like to put on some clothes that _don't_ reek of blood."

Scott chuckled at that, and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Sure. I'll—" Before he could finish the thought, he heard his phone go off again, and with a sigh, turned and snagged it off the table. "Lydia," he said for Malia's benefit as he opened his messages and found three waiting for him.

— _Everybody's meeting at my house for breakfast, so get over here._

— _Come on, we're all waiting._

— _Are you seriously still sleeping? It's 10:30. Get up or we're coming over!_

Snorting, he shook his head. "Guess we'd better go. I'll meet you outside." As he spoke, he turned and headed toward his window.

"Hey!" He turned back and found her looked at him questioningly. "Where are you going?"

"Out the window. You may be cool with seeing my mom right now, but I'm not. I can already hear the questions." He shuddered theatrically, drawing a snort of laughter from her. "So, yeah, for the next week, I'm gonna be avoiding her as much as possible."

"Coward," she called out, grinning as he slid out the window and disappeared from sight.

 **-l-l-l-l-**

"Uh... what are you two doing?"

They didn't immediately break apart when the question rang out, too wrapped up in each other for much outside to filter in. It was only when Stiles loudly cleared his throat that they reluctantly parted, Scott arching an eyebrow at his best friend as Malia rested her forehead on his shoulder, breathing heavily. He wasn't surprised someone had come looking. He was pretty sure they'd been missing for way too long.

"Kissing," he said dryly. "You know, that thing you've been doing with Lydia almost non-stop for the last month."

For a second, Stiles just stared at them, mouth gaping open. Then he slowly nodded. "Yeah, no, I—I got that. That wasn't really—okay, so, I wasn't... uh, I wasn't really asking what, so much as... _you two_?" Eyes wide, he gestured to them wildly and tilted his head to the side, questioning. "When did—what... when did this happen?"

Scott hesitated for a second, the question briefly giving him pause. Twelve hours, give or take, since he'd made his move. It felt like so much longer than that, after their night together, and their time spent at her house before they finally made it to Lydia's. It was hard to keep track of time when he was lost in her, caught up in her presence. Difficult to keep from watching her too, seeing the same anticipation he was feeling mirrored on her face as they explained the encounter with Coyle to the rest of the pack over breakfast in Lydia's living room. They'd finally managed to sneak out after nearly an hour, escaping into the kitchen, coming together hard the second they were alone.

"Last night," Malia said, joining the conversation as she turned around and leaned back against the wall next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Looking at Stiles, she raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Oh, yeah, no, I know." Clearing his throat, Stiles scratched at his neck, his eyes flicking from one of them to the other. "I just—you two are... together now?"

"Yeah," Scott replied softly, as Malia slid her hand into his and squeezed. "Yeah, we are. Is that gonna be an issue?"

Stiles immediately straightened up, waving his hands in the air. "No, no, no issues at all. Just didn't really expect to walk in on... that. But no, Scott, everything is—"

His words died as the door behind him abruptly swung open, Lydia taking one step into the room before she froze, the smile on her face fading as she looked around at the three of them. "Um, what's going on here?" she asked, curious, as her eyes darted to each of them in turn. Before anybody could say a word, she suddenly spotted their joined hands, her mouth forming an 'oh' shape.

Meeting her gaze, Scott grinned. "Surprise. We were gonna tell you guys earlier, but everybody wanted to hear about the fight, and we kinda just..." He trailed off and looked at Malia, who shrugged, leaning into him. "So, yeah, we kinda figured we'd do that, and tell you all later. And then Stiles walked in on us, and here we are."

"Kissing?" Lydia prompted, as her boyfriend nodded vigorously.

"Uh, yeah."

"I see." It wasn't much, but Scott knew Lydia more than well enough to know when she was amused. So even as she fought to keep her expression blank, he could see the light dancing in her eyes, the tiny twitches at the corners of her lips. "Well, for future reference, you'd probably get better results in a bathroom. I've got four of them, and people are way less likely to walk in on you in there."

Chuckling, Scott shook his head as Malia huffed out an amused breath. "Thanks, we'll keep that in mind."

The last of whatever tension had entered the room with Stiles faded then, chased away by Lydia's teasing. Without any hesitation, the redhead quickly crossed over to them, beaming widely. "You two look good together," she announced, drawing matching smiles from both, before her eyes locked on Malia's. "Of course, I'm going to want every last detail of exactly how this happened. But..." She shot a quick look over her shoulder at Stiles, who raised his hands and shook his head. "Maybe that's better saved for a later date."

"Good call," Scott said. He really wasn't in the mood to share the details with anyone just yet. The feelings were still so fresh, so new, and for now, just theirs. He wasn't even entirely sure he could put into words exactly what prompted him to act, even if he wanted to. Which he didn't, not yet.

"So," Stiles suddenly said, drawing everybody's attention to him. "Does this mean we have to go on double dates?"

"Nope." Malia shook her head, and Scott couldn't help but chuckle at the distaste he saw there. "No double dates. We will both hang out with you guys as much as you want, but I draw the line at dates. Those are..." She paused, shooting a soft smile at him. "Those are just for us."

"Seconded," Scott added.

"Oh, thank God." Stiles brushed imaginary sweat off his forehead, and grinned as Lydia made her way back over to him. "That would have been... I wanna say awkward. Yeah, definitely awkward. And I'm already awkward enough on my own."

"You're telling me," Lydia said, poking him in the arm, drawing a mock groan of pain from him. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to them and arched an eyebrow. "So we're gonna head back out before anybody else comes looking. You guys can take a minute, but, I mean, this _is_ my kitchen, so maybe don't go too crazy, yeah?"

Shaking his head, Scott huffed out an amused breath and waved toward the door. "All right, we're right behind you." Lydia shot him a wink as she caught her boyfriend's hand and led him from the room, leaving them alone once again.

"Well, that went well," Malia said, as they watched the door swing closed.

"I never had any doubts." Turning toward her, his hands found her again, pulling her close. Grinning, she allowed herself to sink against him, their lips meeting in a heated kiss, happy to be alone together again. With Lydia's warning fresh in their minds, they didn't let themselves get too lost this time, breaking apart a moment later, soft smiles decorating both their faces as they looked into each other's eyes. "I guess we should get back out there," he murmured, unable to keep the hint of reluctance out of his voice. He'd be more than happy to spend the rest of the day just with her, touching her, kissing her. But given where they were, and with the rest of the pack sitting just a room away, he knew that wasn't really an option.

"Yeah." Slowly, she nodded, before she abruptly arched an eyebrow, her thumbs tracing softly over his knuckles. "The quicker we do that, the quicker we can get out of here." An impish grin twisted her lips. "Did I tell you my dad is out of town until tomorrow night?"

Scott felt a jolt of desire, of anticipation spike through him at the blatant suggestion in her tone. "Is he?" he asked, voice barely more than a growl as watched the hunger burning in her eyes. "Interesting. But what could we possibly do with a house all to ourselves, I wonder?"

Dropping one of his hands, she grasped the other tight, giving him a not so gentle tug toward the door. "Let's say goodbye to everybody. Then we can go find out."

* * *

 _ **AN2:** And I'm done for real this time. I promise._


End file.
